


The Veil

by DyingFable



Series: Life After Death [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Medium!Castiel, Multi, deaf!Castiel, ghost!sam, jock!dean winchester, nerd!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyingFable/pseuds/DyingFable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many odd, unanswered questions about the world.<br/>Why is the Bermuda Triangle known for supernatural disappearances?<br/>Why do babies yawn in the womb?<br/>What really happens after we die?<br/>So many questions. But only few answers.<br/>There are… special… people in the world. Some can find the square root of a two-hundred digit number in a matter of seconds, some can draw places just on memory. There are people with development issues widely known for their talents in places such as Hollywood. Then, of course, there’s Beyoncé.<br/>However, the answer to the questions we have about life after death remains in the hands of few, incredible people.<br/>The Mediums.<br/>The ones who can hear or see the dead, communicate with the lost souls and help them to move on. Of course, they have their limits, but legend has it of a special medium who could do all of the above and more without ever getting weak.<br/>His name is Castiel Novak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new fic that I really wanted to do okie dokie I'm probably not going to update it until I update Blood Type: O Negative and Counting Thunder but ye

There are many odd, unanswered questions about the world.

_Why is the Bermuda Triangle known for supernatural disappearances?_

_Why do babies yawn in the womb?_

_What really happens after we die?_

So many questions. But only few answers.

There are… special… people in the world. Some can find the square root of a two-hundred digit number in a matter of seconds, some can draw places just on memory. There are people with development issues widely known for their talents in places such as Hollywood. Then, of course, there’s Beyoncé.

However, the answer to the questions we have about life after death remains in the hands of few, incredible people.

The Mediums.

The ones who can hear or see the dead, communicate with the lost souls and help them to move on. Of course, they have their limits, but legend has it of a special medium who could do all of the above and more without ever getting weak.

His name is Castiel Novak.

The Novak’s were a highly respected family, owning many flourishing business’ such as Home Depot, Staples, and Chipotle. Most of them had respectable jobs; Michael being a lawyer, Lucifer, or Luke, was a well known magician and musician in New Orleans, Gabriel owned a few candy shops, even had a charity for breast cancer awareness called ‘Sweets for Teets’. Even the adopted son, Raphael had a high ranking job, the guy owned half of the numerous Walmarts.

Then there’s the runt of the litter. Black sheep. Outcast. The fallen angel.

Castiel.

He worked at a pottery shop after school, showing kids and their parents how to create sculptures and pots and how many layers of glaze would need to be painted on. He loved it. For a long time, everything was okay.

Surely, it had been anxiety. It had started after a car crash with his mother. She shielded him when the windshield shattered, but was killed instantly when a large chunk of glass welded itself in between her shoulder blades.

Since then, he would always wake up screaming from nightmares. It was always different, but always ended the same. Sometimes he was an old woman holding her husband’s hand as he cried for her to stay with him. Sometimes he was a baby inside an incubator, his lungs unable to support him.

But there was one dream that stuck with him like a scar. He was a little kid, following his big brother across the street toward a car after being picked up from school. They were almost across when he pushed his brother out of the way of a car hurtling toward him. He didn’t know who he was supposed to be, but he knew who he’d saved.

Dean Winchester.

Captain of the football team. With his green eyes and freckles. His perfect lips and toned body.

What an asshole.

But he didn’t deserve having to watch his baby brother die. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and since then his life had become chaos. It was that dream, that specific dream that changed everything. He saw things. Inhuman, grotesque things. The demented souls of those who can’t move on, and those who are stuck and believed they were truly alone.

Dean’s little brother was like that.

When Castiel first saw him, an electric buzz tingled in his chest, almost like he had been hit by a truck. Then he noticed him. He was no older than nine, wandering around crying for his brother. Castiel was only eleven at the time, but it seemed like it was something his soul was destined to do.

To help Sam.

Yes, that was his name. Samuel Henry Winchester. Born in May, died on October 2nd from a car crashing into him outside of the school.

Castiel pitied him, he was only a child. He couldn’t let him become the void-like shadows people see out the corner of their eye, or the nightmares that caused children to wake up and wail. He had to help him. He had waved, getting his attention and offered a smile.

Sam was… reluctant, at first, but eventually bolted toward him, trying to hug the older boy only to pass through him and fall to the ground.

Castiel regretted laughing, and trying to help him up was a mistake too since it was obvious they couldn’t touch. He had to calm him down, explain who he was, and allow Sam to do the same. It felt good to watch relief wash over Sam’s features once he had found someone. Castiel vowed to be there for Sam whenever he could, and for the past five years, he had.

As Castiel grew into a young man, Sam continued to look like his immensely dead self. It was difficult for him to cope, wishing he were still alive, but Castiel was there to get him through it. When Castiel was sixteen, he started to worry. Sam needed to move on, who knew how long it would be before he became lost. He pondered it often, especially when he was alone in his room every once in a while. It wasn’t as if he was about to bring anyone home soon, being the ‘grade-A’ weirdo he was. But he had Sam.

It was a double-edged sword, really, the longer Sam stayed the less human he would become, and if he left Castiel would be alone again. But it was time to move on. Castiel had explained to Sam many times, but it never seemed to bother him, but when Castiel became the only son left at home, Sam realized he couldn’t tag along forever. In his mind, Castiel deserved better, to ensue his passion for art and move on to bigger and better things. So finally, Sam agreed to move on. But no matter how hard either boy tried to send him away, he could never leave.

Someone was still holding on to him.

While Castiel wracked his brain, trying to find another way, the only possible and logical person who could be keeping him leashed here was Dean Winchester.

Castiel cringed at the thought of having to communicate with him, let alone explain that he had been seeing his baby brother for the past five years. He wouldn’t speak to him for money, eternal life,or a wish or whatever.

The slimy bastard, he probably didn’t even know or care that he’d been keeping Sam here, torturing him slowly as he lost more of his humanity.

“Please Castiel?” Sam begged, voice muffled as if he were trying to speak through water. “Please, he’s not a bad guy. He’s really nice! He’s got to believe you!”

“He won’t.” Castiel deadpans, sitting cross-legged on his desk trying to think of an alternative solution.

“What could you possibly have against him?” Sam whines, flopping down on the bed with a huff.

“It has nothing to do with your predicament.” Castiel sighs, rubbing his temples as he tried to ignore the question as to who was truly the eight-year-old at the moment.

“Castiel, please. You’ve gotta talk to him, I don’t want to be stuck like the shadows you told me about!”

Castiel bites his lip, picking at a hangnail on his thumb. “I don’t want to.”

“What? Do you think I can just poof up and do it myself?”

“No-I-ugh.” he stammers, threading his fingers through his hair. “It’s big kid stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Please Castiel.” Sam blubbers, voice taught and wavering. “Please, he needs to let me go.”

Castiel finally looks up at Sam, noticing the boys eyes seeming to tear up. “Fine, I’ll do it.” he sighs, scooting off of the desk.

“Yes!” Sam exclaims, jumping around in excitement and causing the awards and papers on Castiel’s walls to rattle and wave.

“Alright, alright!” Castiel snaps, waving his hands to calm Sam down. “You really need to work on controlling yourself. Last time you got that happy you broke my windows and I had to lie to my dad and say some vandalists threw stones.

“Right, sorry.” Sam giggles. “You promise you’ll talk to him?”

“Yeah.” Castiel sighed, slumping further back in his chair. “But he probably won’t believe me.”

“I can give you facts about me and Dean, I can tell you stuff only we know, he’ll have to believe you then!”

“Alright, go ahead.” he mumbles, standing up from his chair and moving to flop down on his bed.

“Ok, our mom died in my nursery when I was a baby, he doesn’t tell anyone about it. One time, when our dad was drunk, he tried to beat Dean up and missed so Dean and I camped out for the weekend. It was in the forest, all the trees were on the ground facing away where we were camped. It was really cool! Oh, oh! And on the 4th of July we drove out and set off fireworks and-”

“Sam.” Castiel blurts. “Slow down, I’m sure that’s enough, thank you.”

“Thank YOU.” Sam laughs, skipping around Castiel’s room. “I don’t want to get stuck here and bore you to death.”

“You’re a pleasure to have, though I’d hate to keep you here.” Castiel reassures him, turning off his lamp and shifting under the covers.

“But I’ve gotta be annoying. Dean always said I was annoying.” Sam mumbles, twirling his finger to make Castiel’s desk chair spin slowly.

“That was rude of him to say, but I’m sure he loved, er, loves you very much.” Castiel reassures him. “Are you going to wander later?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods, sitting on Castiel’s desk. “I want to check on Dean again, last time I saw him he looked sad.”

“He’s still mourning, that’s why you can’t leave.”

“What’s ‘mourning’?” Sam asks, looking over at Castiel.

“It’s when a person misses someone who died. He feels guilty about your death.”

“Why does he feel guilty? He didn’t do anything wrong.” Sam mumbles, lowering his finger and letting the chair slow down to stop spinning.

“It must have something to do with the way you died.” Castiel shrugs, turning on his side.

“But… he didn’t do anything wrong. I pushed him out of the way so that truck wouldn’t hit us….” Sam explains, kicking his feet back and forth.

“Guilt comes in many different forms. He could regret letting you push him out of the way, he could regret not looking both ways before you two crossed the street. The possibilities are endless. But guilt is guilt, and it won’t bring a dead person back. Trust me, I know.”

“How would you know?” Sam argues, turning to face the older boy.

Castiel stiffened up, the image of deep blue orbs staring into his soul and welling up with tears as they watched him. “I just do.” he snaps, rolling on his side so he wouldn’t face Sam.

 

/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/

 

Castiel wakes up with a groan, slitting open his eyes and glancing up at the clock. Something solid sinks in his stomach when he sees the time, confused as to why his father hadn’t woken him up. He throws his covers off, looking around the room only to find Sam wasn’t there. He scoots off the bed, heading over to his dresser and pulling out fresh slacks and a button up, the uniform of the school. He stops when the feels an unfamiliar presence pass by. He turns, looking around for the source only to see his, still empty, room.

He rubs at his eyes, stepping into his slacks and buttoning up his shirt as the headed toward the kitchen. Naturally, it’s quiet. There’s some stale toast on a little platter from the maid, along with a tall glass of lukewarm orange juice. What he ever did to the maid to get such an awful breakfast he’ll never know.

He tosses the toast into the trash and pours out the orange juice, deciding to skip breakfast entirely and just take his medicine. He chokes down an antidepressant, a vitamin, and another pill for his supposed schizophrenia. He heads back upstairs, surprised to see Sam sitting in his office chair and spinning around.

“Good to see you.” he smiles, grabbing his shoes by the door and slipping them on.

“It gets boring hanging around Dean.” Sam mumbles.

“I can imagine.” Castiel scoffs, lacing his shoes as he listened to the younger spirit.

“It’s not like that.” Sam huffs. “He’s not as rude as you think. It’s just boring when I try and talk to him and he doesn’t notice.”

Castiel gives an interested hum, grabbing his cardigan and tugging it on. “I’ll talk to him before school.” he reassures him, grabbing his backpack and flicking the light off after him.

“Be patient with him, he’s a bit of a skeptic.” Sam reminds him when he reappears beside him. “And don’t talk bad about me or our mom, you might end up like me.”

“I understand, but you need not worry, I’ve got this.” Castiel smiles, continuing down the stairs and out the door. “Keep close, I may need your help.” he sighed, turning back and watching Sam disappear.

 

/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/---/

 

Typically, Castiel was never one to be late. But with Sam’s sanity and Dean’s unfathomable guilt on the line, he had no choice. He wandered around the back of the school, noticing Dean with a group of upperclassmen by the bleachers. He comes closer, earning a few snickers and confused looks as the approached Dean. After a moment, the older boy turned and glanced down at him.

“What do you want?” he scoffs, watching Castiel’s features droop. The boy raises his hand and Dean almost thinks the sophomore is trying to start a fight, but the instead starts making signals, looking up at Dean with a hopeful glance.

But the confusion on Dean’s face made it clear.

Castiel was deaf, and Dean couldn’t read sign language.

 


	2. Sad Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really fucking salty at the moment because I had all this shit wrote out and my laptop crashed so here's take two. Sorry that this took so fucking long, I've had very little inspiration. This chapter is going to be very fucking short because I'm lazy and tired and angry and mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"Isn't he the deaf kid?" Benny asked, watching the brunette boy repeat his signals to Dean.

"I don't know." Dean shrugs, staring down blankly at the Sophomore. "Can't understand you, buddy. I don't know what you're trying to say." He chuckled, watching as Castiel's face fell, his hands finally still at his sides.

"Do you think he understands English?" Gordon asks, cocking his head at the kid.

"I don't even think he knows what he's trying to say." Dean teased, studying the shorter boy with a chuckle. "What'dya say? Can you understand me?" He annunciated loudly.

The boy hesitated, glancing at Dean's companions and at the pavement. "S-Sam." he choked out, voice gentle and yet somehow gruff.

Dean froze, feeling like an ice sculpture as his body went numb. "What?" he asked, fists blenched as he waited for the younger man to answer.

"Sam." he repeated. "Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam."

Dean listened in shock as he repeated the name over and over again, the name slowly fading into the background as Dean's world and mind suddenly stopped. It didn't make sense. There was no way a deaf kid, with no knowledge of Dean (from as far as Dean could tell), could just wander up and blabber out his little brother's name. He finally snapped out of it, grabbing the collar of Castiel's white button up shirt and pressing him against the wall of the school. "Shut up! Who told you that?"

"Sam. Sam. Sam."

"Shut up! Shut up!" Dean demanded, throwing Castiel to the ground. "Don't talk to me and don't you  _ever_ say that name!" he gritted out, eyes welling up with tears.

The boy looked up, blue eyes staring into Dean with confusion and hurt. "I... I-I s-s-see... see S-Sam." he stammered, looking up at Dean to make sure he was saying something that actually existed in the English language.

Dean clenched his jaw, teeth grinding as he lifted Castiel's chest of the pavement. "I said, shut. Up!" he barked, landing a blow at brunette's cheek and managing to knock him out.

" _Winchester!_ " A gruff voice bellows out, sending a shiver down Dean's spine. He recognized it from anywhere, the voice of the vice-principal: Mr. Ariah. The bald man paced toward Dean, sharp nose pointed down at Dean like spear. "Principal's office. Both of you.  _Now_." he ordered, pointing to the school and patting the younger student's cheek to wake him up.

* * *

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the back of the younger student's head while he stepped on the back of his sneakers. It was the most he could do without causing any damage to poor, frail  _Castiel_. He'd finally learned his name and it sounded more and more like a fake psychic every time he thought about it. He sighed once they'd reached the principal's office, letting Castiel sit by the door and deciding to sit as far away from him as possible. He watched Mr. Ariah shuffle into the Principal's office, leaving Dean to glare at Castiel.

"Sam."

"Do you want me to punch your other cheek?" Dean asked, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs.

"Sam."

"Yeah. Can you say anything else?" Dean grumbled, grabbing a school newspaper and leafing through it. He hardly paid any mind to Castiel as he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, quickly scribbling words down. Dean eventually glanced up once Castiel handed him the paper, waiting anxiously for him to read it. He sighed, setting down the newspaper and taking the sheet from Castiel.

 _My name is Castiel. I see things that you can't._  
I know it must be hard to believe, but I can see your younger brother.  
We've been speaking for a few years, but he's starting to lose himself.  
He's being tied down by grief and, well, I believe it's from you.  
Please believe me. Sam needs you, Dean.

Dean swallowed thickly, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt and folding up the paper before glancing at Castiel. "I can't believe you." He stated simply. "There's no way this is possible, and even if it was I wouldn't be able to help you." He explained, knowing the other couldn't hear him but not really bothering to care. He crumbled up the piece of paper, tossing it in the trash beside him. He was about to go back to reading the newspaper when he noticed Castiel had closed his eyes and gone rigid. "Uh, Cas?" Dean called out, nearly jumping in his skin when Castiel's eyes flickered open to reveal nothing but white.

"Bro... ther....." he croaked out.

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shut his eyes, holding his head in his hands as he tried to come up with a logical explanation as to why he was hearing  _Sam's_ voice instead of Castiel's. "Stop that." He whimpered.

"Dean." Castiel repeated, still sounding like Sam. "Deeeaaan."

"Stop that!" Dean repeated, looking up at Castiel's body. "This isn't funny, quit messing around! You're dead!"

"No shit." Sam's smart elic voice echoed.

Dean swallowed and tensed up, struggling to believe that his little brother still had some life somehow. "Sammy?"

Castiel's body smiled, waving at Dean. "Hi... do you believe me?" Sam asked, shakily standing up and struggling to walk toward Dean with lack of experience in possessing a body.

"I... think so?" Dean said quietly, glancing up and down at Castiel's body. "Is that... is that really you?" He asked, reaching out to Castiel.

"Not... entirely." Sam's voice giggled. "Castiel's my friend, Dean. Please trust him. I want to go, I want to see mom." he explained, holding Dean's hands with Castiel's. "Just trust him, okay?" Sam pleaded, voice weak and sounding more like Castiel's. 

Dean nodded. "Of course, just stop that, it's weird." Dean blurted, looking at Castiel's body and trying to imagine the cartoon explanation of a ghost hiding out in the belly of it's vessel.

Sam giggled as he exited Castiel, leaving him unconscious to fall face first on the floor as the principal opened the door, glaring at Dean and staring at Castiel's limp body. 

"Detention, Mr. Winchester."

"Yes sir."

"And for your punishment, since you've been kicked out too many times, you'll be Castiel's guide. You'll be helping him with his classes." he explained with a sigh, rubbing his temple. "But there's one thing, you need to learn sign language."

Dean couldn't help but crack a smile. "That's no problem sir, I'll start right away."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad Machine - Porter Robinson
> 
> -
> 
> I'm thinking of possibly making a tumblr for my fics??? any thoughts on that are appreciated. I've also made a playlist for this fic featuring songs I listen to when writing to get ideas for new scenes. You guys are welcome to listen to it and let me know what comes to your mind! It'll also feature the songs that the chapters have been named after so that's pretty dope. So I guess you guys can send me any thoughts on the new tumblr for the fics through my current personal one:  
> http://www.mellow.elbow.tumblr. com
> 
> spotify playlist: https://player.spotify.com/user/felixhasarrived/playlist/5WHnZWIO79WAspruj86zBZ ((This'll probably be updated a lot. I have too much fucking music lmao))

**Author's Note:**

> My Time - Bo En


End file.
